


Dinner

by L122YTorch (orphan_account)



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1467166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/L122YTorch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Spoilers* Harvey takes Mike out for his "farewell dinner," but the night doesn't exactly end how either of them had planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dinner was awkward.

Harvey insisted on giving Mike a proper send off, but everything about it felt “off.”

Mike wore his best suit - a bright blue shirt, black and blue striped skinny tie and black overcoat and pants. It was so damn soft that it felt like butter, and it clung to all the right places on his body.

He got there early out of nervousness, and had a drink as he waited for Harvey.

Maybe he knew better, but he started with the hard stuff anyway. It burned down his throat and flowed through his blood with fire. But as much as it stung, it pacified his nerves.  
Still, his sweaty palm slipped over the glass, and it clunked down on the bar with a graceless thud.

What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t a goddamn date. 

Mike smiled. He imagined what a date with Harvey would be like. He wondered if Harvey would be commandeering and dominant, or if the dynamic would change based on the fact that he would actually consider the thoughts and feelings of his date.

A giggle rose up his throat as he pictured Harvey getting ready for a date, and pictured himself as the lucky suitor. He’d probably jump out of skin before he even made it to the damn date and Harvey…Harvey would probably be all suave, never missing a beat.

He was laughing at himself more than at the idea of Harvey in these scenarios - his own awkwardness. All of his self-assurance learned in the past couple years would just fly out the window in Harvey’s suffocating presence.

"Something funny?" a familiar voice asked from behind him.

He swung around just a bit too fast, his coordination already suffering from the stiff drink that once occupied the glass in his hand.

"Uh…no," he said, sucking in a breath. Harvey looked fucking great. Fuck. Harvey looked fucking great. His mind used “fucking” and “Harvey” in the same sentence. He was so fucked. 

A fresh blush crept into his cheeks as his mind went places that he hadn’t allowed it to go since the day he met Harvey.

The senior lawyer brushed off the oddness, and gestured out toward the main dining room.

It was the weirdest situation ever.

I mean sure, they’ve had dinner together before. But this was so different…Mike was leaving, and that thought was crushing - it literally made his chest ache. And then he’d look up at Harvey, sipping his wine and trying to make conversation and he’d feel giddy, like he was on a date.

The drinks clearly weren’t helping him. 

He oscillated between these conflicting feelings throughout the appetizer round. His mind was so damn busy that he didn’t even make an effort to savor the extravagant food.  
Every time he caught himself enjoying Harvey’s company, he was reminded that it would be one of the last times.

"How are you?" Harvey asked as their appetizer plates were being removed. The question snapped Mike out of his own head. Which was good, because currently he was in a downswing of self-pity.

"I’m fine," he lied. Harvey clearly wasn’t buying it. 

He probed further. “Are you excited to start the new job?”

A thick lump settled in Mike’s throat and disappointment flitted through the shadows of his candlelit face. “Yeah…” he lied again.

Harvey leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really feeling?” he said lowly, in a voice that Mike was unfamiliar with. 

"Ha," Mike huffed. "You want me to share my feelings? What is this Oprah? Who the hell are you and where is the real Harvey?"

"Very funny," Harvey retorted. "And no this isn’t Oprah. She was going to have me on, it’s such a shame that her show ended before my schedule opened up."

This response garnered a genuine smile from Mike - the first one Harvey had seen all night. It made Harvey’s neck feel hot beneath his collar. He readjusted his cuffs beneath the table and cleared his throat. This wasn’t exactly easy for him either, you know.

Harvey’s lips parted, a question resting on the tip of his tongue, but he was interrupted by the clanking dishes of the arriving dinner.

Harvey had lobster, Mike had filet mignon.

They ate in relative silence, and every now and then, Harvey could feel the heat of a gaze falling over his face.

Mike was taking every opportunity to steal glances at his mentor, his friend, his…Harvey.

Every now and again a patron or waiter would walk by, and Mike would get a whiff of Harvey’s cologne. It was woodsy & musky but had a sweet note at the end. He could get drunk on the scent faster than the blood red wine in his glass.

Throughout the meal, Mike tried to say things that would make Harvey smile - and he succeeded a couple of times.

Their conversation was light and sparse as they ate the main course. But neither of them really enjoyed the food.

Every time Mike thought about leaving Pearson Specter, his stomach would turn and a flurry of panic would tingle through his ribcage. So it took him about twice as long as it normally would to finish dinner.

Harvey finished his meal before Mike, leaned back and observed his associate.

The attention was making Mike uncomfortable. 

He waited for Harvey to say something, but he didn’t; he just sat and watched Mike openly, just as Mike had observed him secretly just moments ago.

It’s amazing how you can feel like you know someone inside and out, and yet… also feel like it’s the first time you’re really seeing them. That’s exactly what this felt like.

Finally, Mike finished his meal, and his third drink. By now a warm buzz had settled in, but still, he made sure to keep his focus sharp so that he could remember this night.

But he no longer had the distraction of the meal in front of him, so Mike looked up at Harvey.

Mike’s eyes had always been so telling of his emotional state. Harvey loved how expressive they were, how filled with emotion they were - big, bright, absurdly blue, inquisitive, beautiful. And though they started out warring between hope and heaviness at the beginning of dinner… now they just looked sad.

"I’m stuffed," Mike said, placing the napkin on the table.

"How eloquent," Harvey smiled, just enough that his eyes crinkled at the corners. 

Specter observed that whenever he smiled, a light came on in Mike’s eyes.

"On to dessert?"

Mike wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t sure that he was even hungry to begin with, but he wanted to bide his time with Harvey. 

His mouth opened as he considered it, but before he could say yes, Harvey had asked the waiter for the check.

Mike’s face fell in disappointment. 

Fuck. I really should have said “yes,” he thought to himself.

Harvey could tell that Mike wasn’t ready to leave. Wasn’t ready to let go.

Scooting in closer than he had during the entire dinner, elbows on the table and all, Harvey dared to ask, “Why are you doing this Mike?”

Mike’s eyes were wide, his alcohol addled brain was trying to figure out what Harvey was asking.

"Why am I leaving?"  

"Yeah."

"You know why Harvey."

"Do I?" Harvey posed.

Mike fell silent for a moment, breath unable to reach his lungs.

"Yeah, you do," he finally said.

"Tell me again. I forgot."

"No you didn’t."

  ”Tell me again," Harvey reiterated, this time, more forcefully. It was a command.

Mike looked down at his hands, his fingers minutely moving over one another. His flesh felt soft, his skin was pale from time spent inside during winter. His fingernails were neatly trimmed.

He settled on, "I don’t want to be a fraud.”

"That’s not it," Harvey challenged; acutely aware of how Mike’s chest rose and fell. His eyes watching Mike’s hands play with one another.

Mike looked up at him, his face a cacophony of muddled emotions.

"I just drag you down…I force you to bend the rules until they break," Mike cracked.

"…And…I almost got used against you…" he stopped, letting the words settle as if they were dust that he just kicked up. "I don’t ever want to be used against you Harvey," he struggled. "I don’t ever want to be your weakness."

Harvey didn’t know how to react at first. He wasn’t good at the whole “relationship” and “feelings” thing. And it scared the shit out of him…what he felt for Mike in that moment.

"Mike…" he said softly, "You have never been my weakness, in fact…you’re my greatest strength."

The light came back into Mike’s eyes, but only for a moment. Only until he realized that this was still his last dinner as Harvey’s associate. He didn’t know how to proceed…what to say. His eyes were fixed on a point somewhere on Harvey’s maroon tie, gears turning in his head so loud that Harvey could almost hear them.

"I’ve never liked the dessert here," Harvey said, pushing himself back to lean on his chair again. Mike looked confused. "So let’s eat dessert at my place."

Ross gave a small smile, “okay,” he said, watching as Harvey put away his card and signed the bill.

They rose, Mike unsure of his steps after having drunk so much, and they walked to the front of the house where they retrieved their jackets. 

Talk about a swanky place. Mike would have been just as happy at a burger bar, and Harvey knew that, but Mike was worth more to him than that. 

So here they were - walking side by side, past the elegantly carved wooden doors of the restaurant and into the New York City night.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive to Harvey’s apartment was quiet. 

Mike was getting sentimental as fuck and he struggled to cling to the reasons he was leaving. And if it was the right thing to do…the right decision to make…then why did it feel like his chest was aching with sorrow?

Was it the right decision? Clearly it was Rachel’s preference. She called him a fraud. And in so many ways, he was. But “beautifully flawed” is what she signed on for, so why should he change?

After staring out the window for a long time, Mike turned his head back to reality. Glancing over at Harvey, he saw the older lawyer staring at him. Had he been watching him this whole time? 

He expected Harvey’s gaze to wander once it was discovered locked onto Mike, but his eyes didn’t waver. They remained, warm, brown, focused on Mike’s face, swallowing him whole.

The cabin of the car suddenly felt much smaller, and Mike was grateful when the vehicle came to a stop. 

They were at Harvey’s.

This was weird, wasn’t it? Mike thought to himself as he got out of the car and walked around the back, catching up to Harvey who was already striding into the building.

I mean…if he were on a date with a woman and she suggested going back to her place for dessert… that could only mean one thing right? I mean…unless Harvey had a massive stockpile of Ben & Jerry’s in his fridge or something that he was trying to get rid of.

Yeah right, have you seen his body? Mike thought to himself as he followed his mentor into the elevator. 

This whole mental conversation was bullshit. 

Mike suppressed a grin as he leant against the back of the elevator. He was behind Harvey, just waiting for the chariot to stop and drop them off at Olympus.

The metal doors slid open with a ding, and Harvey stepped out.

“You’re being awfully quiet Mike,” Harvey said as he opened the door. Mike brushed past him and entered the opulent apartment. “It’s too bad you’ve only just now learned how to be quiet. The silence is refreshing.”

“Puh-leese,” Mike responded. “You thrive off my witty banter.”  
“Witty? Really?”

“I have my moments.”

Harvey nodded in concession. “Wanna drink?” he asked as he stepped into the living room and shed his absurdly expensive jacket, draping it neatly over the back of a chair.

“Why…Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me. Aren’t you?”

Harvey let out an unbridled laugh. “Really Mike? The Graduate?”

“Hey why not? And I thought we were having dessert?”

“We can have whatever you want Mike,” Harvey said once they were seated on the sofa.

He didn’t mean for it to sound…the way it did…but it did. And Mike flushed a gorgeous shade of rose, because right now, all he wanted was Harvey. All his extraordinary brain could conjure up was filthy daydreams involving he and Harvey. (Maybe it was the circumstances, or the alcohol, or how intoxicating Harvey smelled)

Clearly the name-partner noticed the crimson blush that rose up Mike’s neck and settled on his cheeks. 

“So, which is it? Drinks or dessert?”

“Depends on what’s for dessert,” Mike said looking up at Harvey with lust in his eyes; all traces of embarrassment were gone.

Harvey was sitting so close to him on the tufted leather sofa that their legs touched, their arms brushed against one another. Electricity hung in the air between them. 

“Why are you doing this?” Harvey asked.

Mike’s heart nearly stopped. 

“Why am I doing what?”

“Leaving.”

Mike sighed, “I already told you why Harvey.”

“Yeah, and it’s bullshit Mike.”

Mike gulped, his heart pounded against his ribcage. He looked at Harvey and couldn’t imagine a future where he wasn’t at this man’s side. 

Mike’s tongue searched his mouth for words, but found none. And Harvey took the opportunity to interject during the beat of silence, turning his body to face Mike better. 

“I know you don’t want to be a fraud,” Harvey said, choosing his words carefully. “But I know you…and I know that you want to be a lawyer.”

Mike gave a tiny smile. “Is that why you’re being so nice to me tonight, because you’re trying to convince me to stay?”

“I can’t convince you to do anything,” Harvey said matter-of-factly. “It’s your decision, not mine.” 

“But what do you want me to do?”

“I can’t tell you that Mike.”

“Goddamn it Harvey! Yes you can! Why can’t you just tell me?! Why can’t you just open up for two fucking seconds and tell me!”

Harvey’s hands gripped one another until his knuckles began to turn white.

“If you don’t know what I’d tell you to do by now, then you don’t know me very well Mike.”

“I’m not asking for what you’d tell me to do. I’m asking for you to tell me how you feel!”

Harvey moved, just slightly, as if he were going to get up off the couch. But Mike reached out a hand and put it over Harvey’s. His fingers dug into the hot flesh of Harvey’ s hands, his mouth was parted, eyes drowning in confusion and anticipation. “Please,” he whispered, plead. 

“Maybe it would be a good idea for you to go,” Harvey gritted. Mike’s face fell in despair and the beginnings of tears stung at the corners of his eyes. 

“Why?” he asked, his hand still over Harvey’s.

“Because…” Harvey’s voice cracked. “You are the chink in my armor. You make me want things and feel things…and it scares me…how much I care about you. How badly I want you to stay,” he finished breathlessly - as if the words were pulled from his soul and took all of his strength away.

It didn’t just scare Harvey; it fucking terrified him how devastated he was at the thought of Mike Ross leaving Pearson Specter. Never in his entire life had he allowed himself to become so attached to another human being. 

“Harvey…” Mike whispered. “I’d follow you to hell and back. I’d do anything for you. I’d stay for you.”

“You need to stay for you Mike, not because I asked you.”

“What if I stayed because I couldn’t handle the thought of being without you?” 

“You need to stay for you Mike, not for me.”

“What if I stayed because you are the other half of me? And if I left I’d just be abandoning myself?”

They were impossibly close, and Mike’s shining blue eyes reflected in tears that had pooled, but not yet fallen. The weight of Mike’s question/statement hung heavy in the stagnant air between them. 

“I want to stay Harvey.”

The senior lawyer was exhausted, he could only take so many emotional rollercoasters in one week. “You sure about that?” Harvey asked, despite everything in his body screaming at him to shut the fuck up.

Mike huffed and nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“How do I know that you won’t change your mind one week from now, one month from now, one year from now? I’m really starting to doubt your decision making skills here Mike.”

Mike smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek; he gave a breath of a laugh. 

“You don’t know,” he said truthfully. “But at least we’d have that week, that month, that year.”

“Now you’re just getting sappy,” Harvey tried to ease the tension.

Mike ignored it.

“I’m just so scared…that I’ll be used against you,” Mike croaked.

“I always knew you’d be my downfall Mike, that’s not news to me,” Harvey spoke onto Mike’s lips, just an inch or two away from his. His voice was deep, rich and satisfying like ambrosia. 

Mike wished that he could drink the words - that he could sink into Harvey’s eyes -or become that fabric that clung to his body. He breathed in Harvey’s cologne and dug his fingers further into the flesh of Harvey’s hands; just to make sure that he was real. That this was real. 

Gathering up his courage, Mike closed the short gap between them and let his lips roam over Harvey’s. They were cloyingly soft and surprisingly forceful. 

One of Harvey’s strong hands broke free from Mike’s grasp and came up to cradle his face. His tongue traced the contours of his associate’s mouth and he heard Mike moan in response.

After a good amount of time passed, they broke apart, pausing for some air, their foreheads resting against one another.

“It’s always been my policy to never sleep with someone I work with directly,” Harvey’s husky voice admitted.

“Well then, hire me back on Monday,” Mike said, reaching to undo Harvey’s tie.


End file.
